


eternity (doesn't seem so long to me)

by tellmewhatyousee



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Marineford Events, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, WIP, possible ace/marco but i didn't wanna tag it that way because i don't KNOW, tagging very scarcely because i am very undecided on where it's going, this is unfinished but i wanted to throw the intro out there because why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:20:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellmewhatyousee/pseuds/tellmewhatyousee
Summary: “So that means I’m gonna be a crusty old man someday, and you’re still gonna be a spring chicken, huh?”That got a little smile from Marco. “Perhaps.”
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Portgas D. Ace
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	eternity (doesn't seem so long to me)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so. i've been working on this idea for a while, and i have the basic plot outlined, but i'm having trouble nailing things down. i wanted to post the first part for now, because i really like the scene and hey ao3 is an archive so why not. obviously since this is a work in progress, details are subject to change. but i hope you like what i have so far!
> 
> the title of the fic is from a song called [all night forever](https://twrp.bandcamp.com/track/all-night-forever). it's a Bop and if you were wondering what the hell this fic is actually going to be about, the lyrics just might give you a clue.

The Whitebeard Pirates were always up for a party, no matter how small the occasion. There were many things in life worth celebrating, after all, and they liked to cover all their bases. A birthday, a new crew member, a particularly delicious meal. They were all worthy of commemoration.

In this particular case, the occasion was a victory. Commander Portgas D. Ace had led the second division in a particularly treacherous battle, and as always, came out on top. While no one had returned completely unscathed, it was nothing the ship’s doctors couldn’t take care of. Once everyone had time to recover, and they found a welcoming island to dock the Moby Dick, the celebration began.

The evening went as a Whitebeard party usually did— lots of singing, plenty of delicious food, and copious amounts of alcohol. Some of the island’s braver residents even joined them on the beach, and the pirates were more than happy to welcome them in. It wasn’t long at all before just about everyone was feeling tipsy, save for the very few who abstained from drinking.

Marco was one of those few, even though he could drink as much as he wanted— or, at least, as much as he’d been willing to test so far— without feeling any effects. He didn’t see much of a point in drinking if his devil fruit powers would immediately sober him up. He wasn’t too upset about it, though, since he felt it was his responsibility to keep watch. Even if the island was under Whitebeard’s protection, that didn’t mean _everyone_ would have the sense to stay away, so he didn’t want to let his guard down.

He kept an especially careful eye on Ace. Division Commander or not, he was still the youngest (and newest) of the crew, and he had a tendency to get into trouble. With his crew surrounding him, just as drunk as he was, he was only _more_ dangerous.

Later into the night, when he caught Ace trying to sneak hot sauce into the remaining buffet food, Marco decided to pull him aside. While Thatch would probably have his head for that, the cook was way too drunk to notice.

“Hey there, Commander,” Ace greeted, wearing a grin that looked almost painful to Marco. “Need somethin’?”

“Nothing in particular,” Marco answered, his own smile much softer as he slid an arm over Ace’s shoulders. “I was just wondering if you’d like to come and sit down, take a break for a while. You’re a little unsteady on your feet.”

Ace giggled and leaned all of his weight against Marco’s side, as if he was _trying_ to prove Marco’s point. “Yeah, sure,” he said, “We can discuss some… official commander business.” He wiggled his eyebrows. 

“If you’d like to,” Marco replied, though he knew Ace’s ability to discuss _any_ sort of business would be very limited at the moment.

Still, while Marco guided him away from the crowd, Ace made an effort to follow through. He babbled on about the details of their last battle with quite a bit of colorful language— nothing like the formal report he’d submitted to Marco the day before. While not entirely accurate, Marco found this particular retelling to be much more entertaining.

Soon, they found a nice spot on the shore, away from the chaos of the party but still within earshot in case anyone called for them. Ace plopped himself right down in the sand, sitting with his legs crossed in front of him. Marco followed suit, though he kept his own legs stretched out as he leaned back against his hands in the sand.

“Y’know, I’m kinda jealous of you ‘n your powers,” Ace said. “That stuff’s pretty good. I wish I could drink more without passin’ out.”

“I beg to differ,” Marco said with a chuckle. He wasn’t sure _what_ they were drinking that night, but he knew he didn’t like the taste of it.

“C’mon, don’t you ever miss it?” Ace asked, “Feelin’ tipsy? It’s kinda nice.”

Marco shrugged. “Well, I’m sure I _could_ get drunk, if I really wanted to,” he said. “With enough seastone, a lot of things are possible.”

“That’s true,” Ace replied. “We should try it sometime. I wanna see the esteemed Commander Marco absolutely shitfaced.”

Marco rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help chuckling. “Maybe another time,” he said. “If I’m going to give up that much control, I’d rather be on the Moby.” He paused. “And around someone who isn’t _also_ shitfaced.”

Ace snickered. “You and your... _responsibility,”_ he said, though he had a little trouble getting through the word. “S’fine, though. I get you.”

After that, a silence fell between them. Despite the commotion behind them, the moment was… peaceful. Comfortable. While Marco was looking out towards the sunset, Ace was drawing lines in the sand with his finger.

“Y’know, I realized I don’t really know that much about your powers,” Ace said after a while. “Other than… the healing stuff, I mean.”

Marco raised his eyebrows as he turned to look at Ace, who was still staring down at the sand. “Honestly, I’m still figuring everything out myself,” he admitted. “But I don’t mind the surprises. I think it keeps things interesting.”

“Guess so,” Ace replied, a smile on his face. He started smoothing out the sand with the palm of his hand instead, until his smile faded. “So… you can’t really die, can you?”

Marco blinked. That took quite a turn. “No, I don’t think so,” he answered. “I don’t really seem to be aging, either.”

Ace nodded, and after a moment, flashed Marco a grin. “So that means I’m gonna be a crusty old man someday, and you’re still gonna be a spring chicken, huh?” he asked.

That got a little smile from Marco. “Perhaps.”

Ace hummed, satisfied with that answer. However, as the seconds ticked by, his smile faltered again. “Do you ever think about what you’re gonna do when the rest of us get too old to do this kinda stuff?” he asked. 

Marco raised an eyebrow. “Do _you_ ever think about what _you’re_ going to do once you’re too old to be doing this?”

Ace shook his head. “Nah, that shit’s too depressing.” A pause. “Oh. Okay, I get it now. I’ll shut up.”

Marco just rolled his eyes, and though he had a relaxed smile on his face, it didn’t really reflect how he was feeling. Of _course_ that was something he thought about, perhaps more often than he should. Really, what did his future hold? He had his long-term goals, of course. He wanted to help Whitebeard succeed and become King of the Pirates. He’d even considered a little ways past that, that someday he might take his father’s place as captain of the crew.

But… what about after that?

The rest of the crew wasn’t going to live forever, and it wouldn’t feel right to replace them. If all its original members passed on, would the Whitebeard Pirates still _be_ the Whitebeard Pirates?

“What do you think you’d be doing, had you not become a pirate?” Marco asked, staring out across the horizon. He didn’t expect an answer right away, suspecting Ace would take some time to think about it. Though, after almost a full minute passed, he glanced over to see Ace lying back in the sand, sound asleep. He probably hadn’t even heard the question.

Marco breathed out a sigh. “Sleeping regularly, maybe,” he muttered to himself. Ace falling asleep mid-conversation wasn’t anything new, though Marco couldn’t help but look at Ace with a certain fondness. He deserved a proper bed, Marco thought, so he slung the sleeping man over his shoulder and carried him all the way back to the ship. 


End file.
